Cons:

I don't like repeating myself. Games that barrage me with tedious trial-and-error usually end up on the wrong end of the woodchipper. So Dustforce legitimately shocked me when I realized that -- while leaping, dashing, and sliding my way through my 20th or so playthrough of the same level -- I wasn't swearing up a storm. This is a fast-paced 2D platformer that absolutely demands perfection, but it's also something similarly demanding indie hop 'n' bops like Super Meat Boy are not: oddly relaxing.

Spring Cleaning

The average Dustforce level takes between three and five minutes to complete -- far less if you're good. And you have to be good, because roughly half the game's levels are, by default, locked. The only way to bust them open is by making flawless sweeps of other levels. And when I say "flawless," I mean it. And when I say "sweeps," I also mean it -- because this is a game about brooms. Honestly, Dustforce's four selectable custodians made me want to give any and all nearby janitors a hug. These folks are hell-bent on polishing every inch of DustForce's monster-ridden town until it shines because it's their job. And you think you don't get proper props at work.

So I piloted my tiny ninja janitor through each gorgeous level in hopes of busting every last speck of dust while keeping my combo score topped off. Otherwise, my end-of-level rank quickly stumbled, and that meant no key for me. Moreover, Dustforce places its leaderboards front-and-center, so all my friends could judge my pathetic scores. Seriously, I found myself re-running levels I'd already perfected because other players had the audacity to narrowly trump my times by a few seconds. Bastards.

There's also an option to watch recordings of other players' runs to see how they did the seemingly impossible... which turns the leaderboards into a back-and-forth race where tiny on-the-fly tweaks can win the day, and other players can see my every move. I learned from my arch-rivals, and they learned from me. Well, until some of their gravity-defying moves left my fingers looking like a pretzel that'd lost a vicious Twister match, anyway.

A rather literal interpretation of the phrase "weed whacking."

Beneath those OCD-baiting extra layers, however, is an elegant, easy-to-understand platformer. My character automatically pulverized dust into, well, something that's not dust, so I merely needed to run over it (or up walls coated in it) to scatter it to the winds. Dustforce is, at its core, a game of quick, reflex-intensive movement, and once I nailed all the tiny subtleties -- optimal order to tackle dust clumps, where to use my screen-wiping super move, etc -- it was a thing of wonder in motion. Leaps, sprints, and slides are mesmerizingly fluid, lending a Mirror's Edge-esque feeling of euphoria to perfect runs.

Flawless Victory

There is, however, no negotiating with perfection. Dustforce requires that you beat each level in one way and one way only. Anything else will either shatter your combo or leave one lone dust fleck cackling to itself while you sob your eyes out at the finish line. As a result, levels -- whether breathtakingly expansive or tightly contained -- feel like puzzles that you have to slowly piece together via multiple runs. It adds a cerebral layer to an otherwise blisteringly paced game, which is bolstered further by incredibly varied level designs. Each area is its own experience, with, say, a downhill dash feeling like a Sonic the Hedgehog speed-run while a comparatively claustrophobic one-room lab requires less forward motion and more meticulous focus on each leap you take.

Well, I suppose these sentient gargoyles won't clean themselves.

So then, why -- upon my 20th voluntary press of the restart button -- didn't I speak in tongues not of this world and carve soap bar voodoo dolls of Dustforce's designers? Well, put simply, in this case graphics do matter. As does the soundtrack -- perhaps even more so. The visuals -- whether in a sun-baked neighborhood, dimly lit gothic castle, or nature setting full of muted greens -- give off a painted, almost earthy vibe, while the music is so peaceful and dreamlike that I hardly even noticed how much it added to the game at first. The whole audio-visual package colludes to create a strikingly powerful soothing effect. Yes, frustration can (and did) eventually set in, but I never went all Krakatoa and spewed rage lava on those who dared cross me. At times, I despised the game with every ounce of my being, but I kept at it. And when I triumphed, I knew I'd earned it.

Dirt Devil's in the Details

By comparison, Dustforce's multiplayer is something of an afterthought. It's an extremely chaotic, up-close-and-personal take on king of the hill, but there's no online option. Up to four players can match brooms and wits on one machine, and that's it. It's perfectly functional and fun for a few quick matches, but the variety and depth of single-player are nowhere to be found. Also in the "interesting but underdeveloped" category is Dustforce's explorable hub area. It's a pretty face on an already stunning game, but it lacks any real secrets or odds and ends to uncover.

If this game doesn't make you say "wheee" a bunch, you might be in the wrong hobby.

Dustforce's high-flying core, however, is a mix of nearly unreasonable demands and an aesthetic that basically pats you on the back, tells you to take a deep breath, and says, "No, you can do this. I believe in you." It's -- in all likelihood -- the most stylish thing ever to prominently feature janitors, but it definitely doesn't lack in substance. So move over, rotund Italian plumbers of the world. There's a new blue-collar hop 'n' bop hero on the block.

Spy Guy says: I checked out the official Hitbox Team site and learned that they're an exciting collection of four male humans: Woodley Nye, Lexie Dostal, Matt Bush, and Terence Lee. Established in 1792, Hitbox Team is currently the world's oldest living organism, having survived temperatures as high as 151 C.